


Let Me Help You

by mossytreebby



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sensory Overload, Sleepy Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sleepy Kisses, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher potions, sensory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossytreebby/pseuds/mossytreebby
Summary: When Geralt underestimates a seemingly simple contract, he takes one too many potions.Jaskier has seen Geralt like this too many times, and was not about to let him suffer with his overwhelming senses alone.(Basically just some sensory overload!geralt and very soft!jaskier taking care of him and being the perfect bard. I need this fluff okay, I need it)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!! So this is the first fanfic I have ever written! I know it’s not perfect, and I probably have loads to work on but hopefully it’s readable! Please let me know what you think! The next chapter will be up really soon! 
> 
> Basically this is just a head canon that lives in my head rent free and I needed to get out.

In his over a century of life, Geralt was very used to the effects of his mutations. He had a lifetime of ingesting ability altering Witcher potions as well.

And yet, he still found himself in this position. 

The fight had been nasty. Unexpectedly nasty. The contract he had picked up was a standard contract, a nest of ghouls in an abandoned village close to the town Gerald had been passing through. 

He had told Jaskier to stay behind for this one, much to his companions displeasure. 

“Geralt, you haven’t let me join you for the last three contracts! I’m not a child, and I’m certainly not as much of a nuisance as I used to be! I promise I won’t get in the way, I’ll stay well back, you’ll forget I’m even there” 

It was true, he really wasn’t much of a concern anymore on contracts, especially ones as seemingly simple as a ghouls nest. The last few contracts had been too dangerous for him to allow the bard to join him. But this one, he probably could have let it slide. 

The problem was what if this time was different. What if the hunt wasn’t simple? What if Jaskier got hurt? Geralt knew he couldn’t risk losing the bard, not when they had become so close. Not now he had finally found a shred of happiness in this painful life he had been told to suffer through. 

And yet, he wished Jaskier were with him now. 

The ghouls had been almost overwhelming. He had suspected maybe five or six at most; judging by the size and location of the village. 

Oh had he been wrong. Vesemir would be scolding him harshly right now had he been there to witness Geralt’s bad assumptions. 

There had been three nests, nearly twenty ghouls hiding around the town. He had only prepared for one nest, taking a quick dose of Thunderbolt before jumping headfirst into the fight; fully expecting it to be other within a few minutes. 

But as soon as he had slain the first five beasts, three more were upon him. It was still easy work to dispel them, but he was beginning to realise his mistake. 

The sun was nearly set, visibility becoming especially low in the abandoned village which was surrounded by and almost covered by heavy, thick trees. 

In a brief moment of respite, Geralt took the moment to re-evaluate his plan. There were at least ten more ghouls that he could detect by sound. Enough of them that the brief hit of Thunderbolt was not going to be enough to make this an easy fight. 

He assessed his potions. He hadn’t topped up his potions before this contract. He has figured he would buy some of the missing ingredients to restock with the money from the local alderman who posted about the ghouls. 

The ghouls has begun approaching again, he could hear them preparing to attack. 

Without thinking he downed a Cat and a Petri’s Philter. Even with his enhanced eye sight and work with the sighs, ten more ghouls was difficult without the help of more potions. 

The second he took the potions, he knew he was in for a bad night after this fight was over. 

Dispelling the thoughts, he quickly disposed of the ten additional ghouls. One had managed to catch him on the bicep, ripping cleanly through his armor and leaving a nasty, but not too deep cut along his arm. 

The fight had ended. Geralt stood there breathing heavily, a dull pain spreading from his arm which was becoming uncomfortable.

It was completely dark now, but the Cat he had taken had barely taken effect yet. He could see perfectly in the dark, as if it were light. The mix of three potions in quick succession was racing around his blood stream. 

Suddenly, despite his victory, Geralt found himself on the floor. Slumped over on his knees, his vision becoming blurry and tinged with spots. Everything was too loud: the rustle of the leaves under his clenched fists; the sound of the nearby owls in the night, the soft wind whistling through the now corpse littered village. 

This wasn’t the first time Geralt had been in this situation. Being completely overdosed on potions happened sometimes. But normally he was more prepared for this. 

He scrambled for his potions once more, looking for some White Honey or Golden Oriole. Anything to neutralize the potions and stop the ringing in his ears. 

There was nothing, he didn’t have any. 

He hadn’t restocked. 

Stupid. A young Witcher’s mistake. 

He should have known better. 

Geralt didn’t have much time for chiding himself before the effects of the potions began to take over his moment of clarity once more. 

His skin itched, every part of the worn leather that touched him felt like a prison he couldn’t escape from. His vision lurched as he tried to move his head. The groan that came from him only echoed in his ears, causing him to clench his teeth and promptly throw his hands over his ears. 

Maybe he should have let the bard come along. 

At least then he wouldn’t have had to try and get back to the inn by himself. 

Steeling himself, he pushed himself up unsteadily onto two feet. His arm had begun to throb, the feeling completely exaggerated due to the overstimulation caused by the potions. 

His head screamed as he took a step, every twig breaking under his foot sounded like a crash of thunder. 

By some kind of miracle, he managed to make his way back to the inn. By time he got there, he was sweating unnaturally, his eyes still completely black, and he could barely keep them open as the light from the inn met them. 

Stumbling, eyes nearly closed and hands clasped firmly over his ears, he reached the back door of the inn. The one he had left from, the inn keeper not wanting him to walk through the busy main hall potentially covered in monster parts in his return. 

This was a godsend now. He avoided the main hall, the light and noise already proving too much even from the back stairs of the inn leading up to the room which he and Jaskier would share. 

Reaching the door, he fumbled and shook as he leant against it. Trying to get his hands to co operate and twist the handle. 

He was starting to lose his rationality. His senses becoming overwhelming. The light of the lamps in the room burned his eyes as he pushed the door open. He all but fell inside, flinging the door shut behind him with his foot. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. It was too vulnerable. Too weak. 

He shuddered and finally gave in. The floor met him quickly, and he curled up on his side. The whole world spinning even behind his firmly shut eyes. 

His ear pressed against the floor board and he could hear the soft sounds of music and laughter echoing from downstairs. He grimaced, curling up into an almost fetal position on the floor of the room. His bad arm was underneath him, taking his pressure, and aching like never before. He was likely getting blood on the floor but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

His world spun. His heart raced. Eyes were burning. Head was ringing. The wood of the floor like a thousand splinters against his skin. 

Stupid. Stupid mistake. What had be been thinking. Not restocking. 

He needed help. He couldn’t ask. He didn’t deserve it. 

He lay on the floor, sinking into a dark place, all of his senses on fire. 

Geralt hadn’t noticed the music downstairs come to an end. He hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. All he knew was pain and spinning. 

Everything was too much. 

The door to the room opened, he barely registered it aside from curling in on himself more to try and shield himself from the noise. Too far gone to register it could be an enemy entering. His hands dug into his head more, nearly breaking the skin, pulling some hair out as he did it. 

It wasn’t an enemy entering. 

Then the lights in the room faded slightly, he was able to open his eyes quickly and just enough to see a pair of legs kneeling next to him, but not touching. 

No, he wouldn’t touch him. He knew what Geralt was like. He had seen this happen before to his Witcher. 

Geralt let his eyes scrunch shut once more. But this time, he knew in the back of his head, he would be okay. That this would pass. The person next to him the only comfort he had in this world. 

“Geralt, I am here. Let me help you.”

It was a soft voice, quiet, barely a whisper, and just tolerable. Jaskier. Too kind, too caring Jaskier. 

He wasn’t alone. Summoning the strength, he nodded, before allowing himself to fall into complete incoherency, knowing that his bard would make sure he would come through this.


	2. Thankyou...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier helps Geralt get his senses under control and looks after him. Just pure fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, okay so I wrote like 3000+ words for this! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, consider checking out my tumblr: mossywitcher 
> 
> I post all of my fics there and also would love love love some headcanons to write about! Feel free to send me stuff! 
> 
> Let me know what you think and please let me know if you have any ideas for fics you’d like to see!
> 
> Here’s some shameless fluff!

Jaskier was used to seeing Geralt in many different states when returning from a contract. From bruised and bloody; quiet and pensive ; angry and seething, and even apparently numb. 

But this was always the worst. Jaskier’s heart ached for him, curled on the floor trying to escape from his own senses. 

This had happened a few times before. Jaskier knew that the first time he had witnessed Geralt overdosed on potions, he hadn’t handled it well. 

It wasn’t in his nature to be quiet and calm, especially when he was worried. And gods had it worried him the first time. 

Geralt had been shaking, barely able to speak, and Jaskier’s instinct was to worriedly pester him about what happened and how he could help. 

It was only after he had reached out to touch Geralt, and the Witcher had bit back a scream, did he realise what was happening. 

It was different now. The two of them were closer, and Jaskier had learnt how to help Geralt. 

It didn’t make his heart hurt any less for his Witcher. 

After walking into the room, he had instantly realized what was wrong, going straight to the nearby lamp and blowing it out. There were two lamps, but he had to leave one lit so he could see what he was doing. He didn’t have night vision like his dear Witcher. 

Kneeling gently next to Geralt, he assessed the trembling man before him. He was curled up, knees tucked to his chest, his hands clawing at his ears. He looked clammy, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. Eyes squeezed shut, even in the dim light of the room. 

Jaskier longed to touch him, to reach out and gather the strong man in his arms and comfort him with calm words and soft touches. But that wasn’t what Geralt needed right now. He needed Jaskier to bring him back from this, to help focus him. Now the next task was to get the stubborn witcher to accept his help. 

Barely audible, knowing Geralt was capable of hearing the slightest sound, he whispered,   
“Geralt, I am here. Let me help you.” 

Geralt’s completely black eyes were open for a second as he spoke, then he nodded and proceeded to squeeze them closed once more. The usual amber was completely gone, the potions causing his eyes to dilate fully. 

Jackie’s was stunned for a second. It must be really bad if Geralt was willing to accept help so quickly. Geralt’s shoulders tensed once more, and the hands over his ears clenched, pulling out some of his fine silver hair with it. Jaskier winced, struggling to see his companion in so much obvious pain. 

It wasn’t time to dwell. He needed to help. Geralt needed to calm down and allow the potions immediate effects to wear off. After he would likely be exhausted, and in dire need of a bath. 

One step at a time. 

Slowly rising to his feet, Jaskier began to look around the room and make a plan. He kept his movements slow and tried to step quietly, to avoid irritating Geralt further. 

Gingerly stepping towards his bags in the corner of the small room, he pulled out a black soft cotton scarf he wore on cold days. This would be needed to help, a little trick he had figured out a few years ago in a situation similar to this. 

From the bed next to the bags, he carefully grabbed one of the pillows. It wasn’t the best quality bedding he had experienced, but it was soft enough and relatively well stuffed! 

He made his way back over to Geralt, once again kneeling down beside the man. Geralt only flinched at the sound of the floorboard as Jaskier made his way onto the floor. The pale haired man was looking worse, jaw clenched and tremors running down his body. Jaskier’s heart lurched once more. How could this man stand so much pain? Why did he do this to himself? 

They were silly thoughts, Jaskier knew this. He was a Witcher, it was what he was born to do. It was what he was created to do. A life of pain and suffering for the benefit of the human race. A race that hated Witchers, treated them as monsters. 

Jaskier shook his head slightly, pushing aside the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to be angry on Geralt’s behalf. All he could do was be there for him. 

“Okay dear heart, let’s start trying to focus on something alright?” Jaskier whispered. He tried to keep his words soothing, for if his voice was going to inevitably hurt Geralt in his heightened state, he may as well make the words comforting. 

Taking the pillow, he placed it in front of Geralt’s knees. Not touching him, but just close enough for Geralt to touch with his hands if he reached out. Of course, that is if Jaskier can convince him to release them from his ears. 

“Geralt, I know it hurts, but I need you move your hands okay?” Jaskier murmured softly, trying to stay up-beat. This could be a bit of a challenge. 

As suspected, Geralt only tensed further, opening his eyes for just a second. Long enough that Jaskier could almost see the slight fear flash through them at the thought of moving. 

Witcher’s weren’t supposed to feel fear. Jaskier had learnt that in certain situations, that was an incorrect statement. It was a rare sight, but it definitely happened. 

Jaskier added a slightly firmer tone to his voice before whispering,

“You allowed me to help, now you must let me. Come on, move your hands.” Sometimes it worked to be slightly firmer with Geralt, especially with him in a vulnerable state. Years of hard training instilled in him a sense of compliance when it came to orders. 

Geralt tensed once more, before slowly bringing his shaking hands away from his ears. Jaskier smiled slightly, seeing Geralt’s eye flit open and up at his face, as if searching for reassurance. 

The hardy witcher would never admit it, but Jaskier knew Geralt wanted support. Especially in moments like this. Jaskier was always a little taken aback when his love opened up to him like this. Geralt would never let his guard down around anyone else. It flooded Jaskier with a warm feeling, knowing that he was trusted by the man curled so tightly in front of him. 

“That’s good, okay. There’s a pillow in front of you, I want you to grip it with your hands and focus on the feeling. How soft the fabric is, how firm it is.”   
He whispered, watching intently at Geralt’s reaction as he allowed all the noise (of which there was very little to Jaskier’s human ears) to come flooding back in. 

Geralt’s face twisted into a grimace, but he still began to reach for the pillow. As his hands made contact, he flinched, the touch obviously uncomfortable for him. But he persevered through gritted teeth, slowly curling slender fingers into the pillow. He took a shuddering breath, trying to relax his muscles. It almost worked. 

Jaskier didn’t say anything as he watched, letting Geralt take his time. It still hurt to see him like this, but he was making progress. Still, all of Jaskier’s instincts told him to bundle his Witcher away and protect him, but that wouldn’t do right now. 

“Okay. Good. Now just try and focus on the feeling beneath your fingers and not everything else. I know it’s hard but just try for me Geralt.” He reassured. Geralt’s face was bunched up in concentration, his brows furrowed. Jaskier wished he could reach out and sooth the Witcher’s aching muscles. 

After a few minutes of quiet, and allowing Geralt to adjust, the Witcher seemed to calm slightly. His shaking had eased, and his breathing seemed to be evening out slightly. Jaskier knew it was time for the next part. 

“Geralt, I’m going to move the pillow away now. I want you you to take my wrist and feel for my pulse okay?” 

Gerald responded with a very small nod, his eyes still shut, but not quite as harshly. He allowed Jaskier to ease the pillow from his hands, and quickly but softly replaced it with one of his wrists. 

Geralt’s fingers reflexively curled around Jaskier’s slim wrist, seeking out his vein that pulsed ever so softly. His human heartbeat was a lot quicker than the witcher’s, but it was familiar. If Geralt couldn’t sleep at night, Jaskier would often find him with his head on Jaskier’s chest. Curled up into the bard, listening to his heartbeat. One night when they had stumbled back to the room a little tipsy, he had asked Geralt about it. 

“It’s calming, and constant. You are always around, I can always hear your heart if I focus, and it’s one of the only things in this world that stays with me.” Geralt answered rather candidly. It has been downright poetic of him. But it had stayed with Jaskier. Now that information would come in handy.

And now, with Geralt holding his wrist gently, he longed to be in bed with the Witcher, his back pressed against the strong man’s chest, his breath ghosting over the back of Jaskier’s neck as he slept. 

Smiling fondly at the thought, Jaskier spoke once more, 

“I know you can hear my heart as well as feel it Geralt. I want you to focus on the feeling in your hand, and the sound you can hear. Just my heart and my voice. You can do that” 

This had worked before and Jaskier hoped it would work again. He stayed very still for a moment, allowing Geralt to adjust and giving him time to follow Jaskier’s words. 

It took longer this time, but after maybe fifteen minutes, Geralt had all but stopped shaking. He was still tense as a bow string, but at least he had managed to centralize his overworked senses. 

Sitting so still and quiet, Jaskier had let his thoughts wander. He wondered why Gerald had let this happen to him? Of course, Witchers made mistakes, but Gerald had described this as a simple contract. He had no doubt the Witcher would be beating himself up for this mistake as soon as he was coherent enough. Jaskier knew that’s was something he was going to have to handle later on. 

The bard all but jumped, but managed to stop himself when he felt Geralt’s other hand move out to touch him slightly. Jaskier looked down, his wrist still cradled in one of the Witcher’s hands, the other hand coming to rest against the bards knee. 

Geralt still hadn’t opened his eyes, the light proving too much for him to handle. But this touch, willing touch, meant he was feeling much better. Not perfect yet, the potions likely still causing him problems, but at least he was able to control his breathing and composure once more. 

“May I touch you Geralt?” Jaskier asked softly, still quiet, not wanting to set Geralt off again. The hand around his wrist squeezed slightly, a yes from the witcher. Jaskir figured he was probably too tired to speak for the moment, exhausted from his fight, as well as his sensory experience. 

As softly as he could, Jaskier lifted his hand and brought it up to rest on Geralt’s where it was placed on the bards knee. He smiled when Geralt didn’t flinch or pull away. Jaskier let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, his anxiety from seeing Geralt in such a state slowly easing as he held the witcher’s hand. 

They stayed like this for a few minutes, Geralt focused on the feeling and sound of Jaskier. 

Eventually, Geralt began to uncurl himself, now just laying on the hard floor of the room. He didn’t look keen to move anytime soon, but Jaskier knew there was more to be done. 

Jaskier knew that Geralt was feeling okay enough to be touched now. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of white hair from Geralt’s face before gently resting his hand on the man’s pale cheek.   
Geralt tilted his head slightly into the touch, seemingly exhausted, and fortunately a lot calmer than before.

Jaskier sighed softly, rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s cheek bone. The witcher began to open his eyes to look up at the bard, before abruptly snapping them shut and hissing at the sudden light. Jaskier had caught a glance of his still black expanded pupils. 

He picked up the black scarf he had retrieved earlier and spoke to Geralt, 

“Dear heart, I need to keep a lamp lit in the room to see. But if you could lift your head for me, I can tie this scarf around your head to block out the light okay? I can guide you and help you until your vision eases.” 

Geralt was still and silent for a moment, contemplating the idea. Jaskier knew he was likely fighting an internal battle, debating whether he needed any more help. 

Eventually, Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s wrist once more, and breathed a very soft “mmm”. Ah, the many words of Geralt Of Rivia. 

Letting go of Jaskier’s wrist, he lifted his head from the floor, allowing Jaskier to slip the scarf over his eyes and tie it behind his head. Jaskier didn’t tie it too tight, only enough so it would stay on when Geralt moved. 

“Is that better?” Jaskier asked. But he didn’t need an answer really, Geralt had visibly relaxed, and now just looked like he was struggling to stay awake. 

“Okay you oaf, let’s get you up. As much as it would be convenient to leave you on the floor all night, I know you won’t thank me come the morning” 

He didn’t have to whisper any more, but he kept his voice gentle. Geralt let out a small groan,and befan to cautiously push himself up on his arms, letting out a hiss of pain as he did so. 

It was only then did Jaskier notice the blood smeared on the floor, and the tear in the witcher’s armour. 

“Geralt! You’re hurt! Oh you silly silly man!” Jaskier explained, making Geralt wince at the sudden noise. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just... oh never mind, let’s get you up and into a bath and then I’ll tend to that arm. You’re lucky it’s not a serious cut by the looks of it.” He chided lightly. 

Jaskier got to his feet unhurriedly, and took Geralt’s hand in the process, easing the still-slightly-unsteady witcher with him until they stood facing each other. Geralt’s blindfold had seemed to do the trick, and now the two stood facing each other, Jaskier moving his hand from Geralt’s to reach up with both and cup the Witcher’s face gently. Geralt’s hands moved to the bard’s waist, steadying himself. 

Tilting his head up slightly, Jaskier leant forward and pressed a very soft kiss to the man’s lips. Pulling away, he felt the last of Geralt’s tension ease, and a slight sigh escaped the taller man. He was obviously worn out. Jaskier didn’t blame him. All that was left to do was convince Geralt to take a bath, dress his wound and fall into bed. 

The rest of the night went rather fast. Even blindfolded and weary, Geralt co-operated and fell into the routine that usually happened after a contract. 

Jaskier gently undid the buckles on Geralts armour, orking in comfortable silence as he placed all the pieces aside. They could be cleaned and sorted tomorrow. Geralt didn’t complain and undressed afterwards, letting Jaskier lead him to the bathtub in the corner of the room that he himself had used earlier. It was still full, and fortunately Geralt had just enough energy to warm up the water with Igni, before sinking in. 

This part was normal, and familiar. Geralt soaked away the aching muscles, and Jaskier sat on a small stool by the side of the tub. After Geralt had rested for long enough, Jaskier moved the stool to the head of the tub behind Geralt. He knew Geralt could hear his every move. 

He undid the blindfold, slipping it away from Geralt and putting it to one side. Geralt kept his eyes closed. Jaskier began to cup water from the bath and wet Geralt’s hair. 

Jaskier loved the witcher’s hair and loved washing it for Geralt. The man in the bath would fall apart under his hands every time, and by time Jaskier was finished, Geralt’s eyes had gone back to normal, and were half lidded. It was an obvious effort for Geralt to stay awake at this point. 

Making quick work of getting out of the tub when he was sufficiently clean, Geralt dried himself off and he dressed into some loose sleep clothing. Jaskier inspected his arm, and concluded it didn’t need stitches. Making sure it was clean and wrapped in fresh bandages, Jaskier was satisfied that it would heal okay. Jaskier followed suit and got undressed before climbing into the bed, leaving room for Geralt to get in beside him. 

They had grown close over the years. Jaskier knew Geralt cared for him, even if he did not speak the words often. The witcher showed him through his actions everyday, and every night. 

Geralt all but flopped into the bed next to him, still managing to look graceful somehow. Jaskier guessed it was the mutations, making it impossible for the man to be anything but graceful. 

Turning on his side to face Jaskier, amber eyes stared at him lazily. Jaskier reached forward and traced the lines of Geralt’s face with his finger. 

He stroked along his brow bone, down over his cheek and along his strong jaw. Geralt’s eyes fluttered, his consciousness waning. Jaskier smiled, pushing himself closer to Geralt and wrapping his arm over the mans waist, tangling their legs together. Their faces were close together, Jaskier’s finger gently tracing down the bridge of Geralt’s nose repeatedly.

Geralt’s breathing slowed, his eyes shutting gently. It was a sight Jaskier knew was only for his eyes, seeing the Witcher so relaxed, so vulnerable. He cherished moments like these. He cherished knowing Geralt cared for him, and would allow himself to be cared for. 

“Thankyou...” Geralt rumbled, shifting Jaskier from his thoughts. Jaskier stopped his movements and lowered his hand to place it against Geralt’s chest, feeling the slow witcher’s heartbeat under his hand. 

“You know there is no need for that dear heart. It is my pleasure to help you.” Jaskier chided gently. 

“Shouldn’t have happened...rookie mistake...stupid.” Geralt mumbled, eyes still closed, but brow furrowing slightly. 

“No, no, no, none of that right now. You made a mistake, and that is okay. It happens. Right now you need to sleep.” Jaskier placed a kiss where Geralt’s face was tense, and pressed their foreheads together briefly. 

Before he could pull back, Geralt unexpectedly pulled forward and kissed Jaskier. It was tender, and soft, another thankyou within Geralt’s actions. Jaskier smiled against the Witchers lips and pulled back. 

Geralt almost smiled back, but it seemed that sleep was finally taking him. Closing his eyes as well, Jaskier lifted his head to press one final kiss to Geralt’s forehead, before pulling the witcher close and tucking his head under the mans chin. 

They both fell asleep, warm and content in eachother arms, the witcher still subconsciously listening to the beat of his bard’s heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much for reading! Ahh it felt so good to write this! Feel free to check out my tumblr: mossywitcher

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! I did it! Okay the next chapter will be some very very soft fluff and comfort, get ready for it.


End file.
